Dignity is overrated
by Magnetic Luck
Summary: When Tonks is injured, Sirius and Remus resort to a very unorthodox method of cheering her up.


The first time Remus Lupin had seen Tonks cry, it had nearly killed him. He had never liked watching anyone suffer, even under provocation, but it pained him all the more when it was someone he cared about and loved. He'd been the same with Sirius in Azkaban, and when Harry had narrowly escaped Voldemort's wrath. He just couldn't abide the fact that such good people could be suffering while he was there breathing, without a care in the world.

Well, he supposed he -did- have cares, and a certain monthly problem to keep under wraps, but his own suffering was tolerable. He knew it was coming, he could anticipate it's duration, and he had some idea of how long it was going to last. His fellow Order members didn't have that luxury. They were subjected to the shock of pain, of insult and injury. It was partially the case now. The advanced guard had been sent forth to collect Harry and bring him safely to the sanctuary of Grimmauld Place for the holidays. It hadn't gone smoothly; as evidenced by the screaming Nymph two floors above him.

Sirius was pacing the kitchen, muttering blind obscenities to himself as the screams cut through the house, while Remus simply sat at the table, nails digging into it's aged wood, trying to steel his emotions and maintain some sense of calm. The fool moon was only days away, and he was agitated at best, but this? This was going to push him well over the edge. Part of him wanted to tune it out, to pretend it wasn't happening, but the other more predominant slice of his conscience just wanted it to stop. To make her stop hurting, and to have his little bubblegum companion back.

"Lousy, stinking Malfoy. Barbie haired git. Of all the no good, dirty, rotten moves, he had to hex her off her broom over the bloody Thames. Bastard. Going to kill him. Shove that cane so far up his arse…" Sirius muttered angrily, fist banging down hard against the kitchen worktop, hands reaching for the glass of scotch he'd been eyeing nervously for the last hour, before tossing it down his throat in a single gulp.

Remus swallowed hard. In amongst the colourful language, he was beginning to get an idea of the bigger picture. It didn't need any more elaboration. Relinquishing his grip on the table, the wolf subconsciously winced as another scream cut through the air, his hands now shifting to tangle in his mop of hair, clawing at it as if for dear life. How much longer were they going to let her scream? It sounded more like medieval torture than a healing act. It was driving him insane, boring it's way into his head, making him want to rip someone's throat out.

"Just set the fucking hip already! Let me back out there so I can bludgeon that peroxide pansy! I'm going to kick your fucking head in if you don't set this fucking leg right now! " The shout drew him back to reality, and he couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it. He'd never known a person quite so fond of the F word when distressed until he'd stumbled across Sirius' young cousin, although her desire to exact vengeance even while incapacitated was admirable at least.

Padfoot slumped into the chair opposite him, and nudged a glass of scotch across the table. "You can tell she's a Black." He mused out loud, staring longingly at the half full bottle of the precious liquid in his hand, before his attention shifted to his oldest friend. With a half smile he nodded to the glass, speech slurring slightly as he rubbed his face. "We're going to have to shut her up, there's only one kind of screaming that goes on in my house, and -that- is not it."

Remus groaned. Why now? Why did he have to insist on making that joke, at that particular moment? They were all conspiring against him, trying to drive him to the brink of sanity. Giving the offered alcohol a suspicious look, he took the glass in hand and tossed it back down his throat with a cough. The burning hit in an instant, setting his mouth alight as it set about calming his nerves. "And how do you propose we do that, Sirius? I'm not smothering her with a pillow!" hissed Lupin frustratedly.

"Who said you had to use a pillow, eh, eh?" Asked Pads, grinning from ear to ear.

"Shut up Pads, before I shut you up." Spat Remus, teeth grinding together steadily.

"No mate. We're trying to shut Tonksie up, remember?" Sirius quipped again, this time with an annoying grin.

The agitated wolf let his head drop to the table, gently thudding his forehead against the wood to try and force whatever sanity he had to the surface. There had to be an easier way to fix this mess than to sit talking to a slightly tipsy Padfoot while he insinuated things that could quite easily make a timid man such as himself flush scarlet for a month.

"Get the fuck off me, and let me out of this fucking bed, so I can fucking kick the hippogriff juice out of the lousy cheating bastard! OWWWW!" Another screech cut through the air, and this time it was Sirius' turn to grimace, pulling a disgusted expression as he flinched at the ungodly cry of pain. Someone really ought to have stuck a silencing charm on the door, but he'd been adamant he wanted to hear everything that was going on while his baby cousin was injured. In retrospect that idea seemed positively moronic, as evidenced by his now throbbing head. (It had nothing to do with the scotch, honest!)

"I know something that'll shut her up." He stated finally, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Remus shot him a threatening glance, as if to warn him to tread very carefully over his next words, but Padfoot merely shrugged. He hadn't been about to suggest anything untoward anyway, but the fact that his friend's mind was so clearly in the gutter amused him no end.

"We cheered James up once; when he was in the hospital wing after that Quidditch accident. Do you remember?" Mused Sirius out loud.

Lupin nodded, picturing the scene quite clearly in his mind. James had broken his leg, and confined to bed in a situation quite similar to the one Dora was now in. He'd been rather frustrated about the whole thing, though his language wasn't nearly as colourful as that of the nymph. He didn't understand quite why the scruffy haired Black was even bringing it up for a moment until his eyes widened in shock, jaw dropping open as he shook his head with a furious conviction.

" No Sirius. Just NO."

"But it worked didn't it? I'd rather have her laughing than screaming bloody murder! She's already woken mum up twice!" Countered Pads, trying to show the logic behind his pitch.

Remus groaned again. He knew it was the right thing to do, the best course of action to remedy the sudden feeling of pain and misery creeping through the house. He did want Nymphadora to feel better, or to at least sit still for long enough until her leg/hip/non-specific injured extremity could heal. But this? This was just sacrificing himself on the altar of dignity to do it. The memory was still playing over and over in his mind, his cheeks reddening with each visualisation of the horror that had taken place.

You see, while James had been incapacitated, it had been the Summer of the Quidditch world cup, and as was so often the case, Ireland had gotten down to the last few matches, and there was a great deal of shamrock cheer in the air. It had been Sirius that had 'talked' him into it (blackmailed, more like), and he, along with Pads and Wormtail had arrived at the hospital decked out from head to toe in layer upon layer of vivid green.

That alone was nothing. He'd quite cheerfully waltz upstairs in a display of evergreen appreciation if he thought it would lighten the Tonks' mood. The real kicker of cheering up James had been after the three of them had each downed a pint of Guinness and broke into a furious display of the Riverdance! It was quite possibly the most hilariously humiliating experience of Remus' life to date, and that was including the time he'd been locked out of the Gryffindor Common Room in nothing but his boxers.

Palm raising to rub his face, the wolf reluctantly nodded. He was willing to sacrifice his peace for the sake of compassion. "Fine. But you're doing it too." He made sure to add, there was no way in hell he was doing this on his own. He already ached from the impending full moon, he certainly wasn't going to lose every shred of dignity he still possessed without dragging someone else down with him.

"Naturally." Grinned Sirius as he waved his wand jovially through the air, casting the aforementioned charm to turn them both into visions of Irish Pride with a drunken slur. It took Remus a moment to realise what he was actually doing, until finally he looked down at his green tinted skin, and leprechaun outfit? Oh sweet Merlin, this was even worse than last time! The redeeming factor of course, was that the man opposite was dressed exactly the same, and it did tend to lessen his self-consciousness ever so slightly.

His lips twitched, almost as if they were trying to force out a smile, as he pushed back the chair, grabbing Padfoot by the arm and half dragging him upstairs to meet his ritual humiliation for the day. They walked past a very shocked looking Ginny along the way, and Remus felt himself turn a familiar shade of red as she suppressed a snicker. The things he did for his family, eh? Finally coming to a halt outside the room that housed the witch currently wailing like a harpy, he pushed the door open with his foot, thrusting Sirius into the room first so he could at least run for cover if he needed to.

Sure enough, there on the bed was a bloodied and bruised looking Nymphadora, leg contorted at an unnatural angle as both Kingsley and Alastor held her down to allow Molly to work to fix the damage. Charlie Weasley sat in the corner of the room nursing a blackeye, and Remus couldn't help but feel that arriving dressed quite like this was inappropriate. The red haired lad, quirked an eyebrow at the sight of the two of them, and masked his amusement with a well placed cough.

"GET THE BLOODY HELL OFF ME, YOU MISERABLE, STINKING, BASTARDS BEFORE I HEX YOU INTO NEXT WEEK!"

All those present in the room winced. It was a lot louder up here, with the rampaging witch herself, and both Marauders couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the senior Auror's she was currently thrashing against. Was perfect hearing even required in their profession these days? Shoving Sirius further forwards, Remus followed him to the edge of the bed, and into Dora's line of sight. Each raised a hand in greeting as all eyes turned to them, a mixture of laughter and confusion glistening in their eyes.

Nymphie took one look and choked out a resounding 'HA' as she bit her lip hard. She was crying, and Remus just wanted it to stop. Even if he had to dance like some kind of disillusioned puppet to do so, he'd give it a shot just to make her smile. Looping his arm through that of his prankster counterpart, the wolf mentally kicked himself before flicking his wand to allow a rich and tuneful melody to radiate through the room.

With a deep breath, they were off. Legs hitching up at jaunty angles in rhythmic precision, the odd leap here and there as their feet tapped out repetitively against the wooden floorboards. The universal sound of laughter punctured through the music, but still the marauder's continued, bones creaking and snapping along the way. In the moment of distraction, Molly had yanked at the young auror's leg, pulling it back into place. Surprisingly, the scream of what should've been pure agony, had turned into a howl of laughter.

Their job sufficiently done, Lupin grabbed a hold of Sirius' shoulder and yanked him down to a chair as his knees buckled beneath him. Chest rising and falling as he regained his breath, both leant forwards, trying to recover from their public spectacle. Sirius had been right though, the laughter was certainly a lot more tolerable than screaming, swearing and tears of unfathomable fury.

He just felt that in future, perhaps a nice Meringue would be preferable to Riverdancing. At least that way he might have some chance of surviving relatively painfree!


End file.
